


Nel Silenzio

by Lacertae



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Classical Music, Eventual Romance, Introspection, Late at Night, M/M, Music, Piano, Post TYL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 22:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacertae/pseuds/Lacertae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*Slight Hibari/Gokudera* When Gokudera starts playing the piano again, it's to reconcile, recover and finally move on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nel Silenzio

**Author's Note:**

> Edited: 8/12/2015
> 
> I decided to post this old fanfic here because I've been on a 1859 kick, and I'm sad to see so little about them. It's my OTP, so that makes the craving worse. I hope this one-shot will please you!

**Nel Silenzio**

The room is covered with a blanket of darkness, and everything is silent.

No one is around.

The only light comes from the streetlight outside of the window, and it is barely enough for him to make out the contours of the room around him –the desks abandoned to the side, the shelves full of dusty music books, the boxes of flutes and other simple instruments used during class– but that’s just fine for him. He doesn’t really _need_ to see.

Once again he asks himself why is he here, standing by the door of the music classroom in the middle of the night, and yet there is no answer forthcoming. Not tonight, at least. Maybe there will never be one.

Gokudera Hayato acts impulsively, he barely thinks about the things he does, and rationalises only afterwards, sometimes when it’s too late. He’s done that enough in the past to recognise right away when he’s done something bad, but he is also unrepentant and there are many things he does not regret, either way.

He is there now because his instincts screamed at him, because that’s just how it is, no big explanation; there is no important meaning at all.

It’s around midnight, and he doesn’t need to check on his watch to know this. He can keep time and count every second in his head until the stable flow of time is familiar to him like the feeling of gunpowder under his fingertips and the smell of tobacco. If you can’t keep time when dealing with explosives, you’re not going to last very long.

So it’s midnight and it’s one night like any other in the middle of summer, one of many. The night is cool, which is refreshing after so many hot days spent in front of a fan, and even the stuffy air of the music room is a welcome change.

In front of him, in the room, there is the school piano, hidden away from sight, but he still chases its shape with his eyes, barely able to see its contours with that little light.

He is still hesitant, a knot in his chest demanding him to leave even after coming all the way to the school from his apartment, but his feet are rooted on the spot, and he isn’t even sure what is keeping him there.

Gokudera can’t explain what made him decide, in the middle of the night, to drop everything, leave his house, and come here. It’s not like tonight is any different from any other night, there is no hidden meaning, it was just a spontaneous decision, a moment of clarity that made him walk through empty streets to face old, faceless ghosts.

As he entered the school grounds, he wondered whether he should question the presence of Hibari there, but ended up deciding it did not matter, not really; nobody ever said Hibari is a normal person, and that includes his weird fixation with the school, even when there is no school and it’s the middle of summer vacations. Hibari is weird, and unpredictable, and possibly unstable, and Gokudera doesn’t really want to think about him, because this makes his mind go down a darker road, one he does not like to travel.

Hibari is stronger than he is, in all the wrong ways, and it makes Gokudera’s insides ache out of envy, out of distaste, out of anger.

He tries so hard, and he keeps failing, and every failure is a weight on his back that adds to his guilt and his determination to be better, and it is this kind of feeling that prompted Gokudera to act, the thought that if something doesn’t change from deep within him, he will not grow strong enough to become the right hand of Juudaime.

He will not grow to be the man he wants to be.

Still, knowing that Hibari is around the same night he’s decided to act on a whim is worrisome; he might be in danger, and he should have turned around and left the moment he noticed Hibari patrolling around, but the school building, standing there in the night, beckoned him forth, and he could not refuse this call.

He’s not even doing it specifically for Tsuna, even if he’d like to believe he is. He’s doing it for himself first.

The sound of the school main doors closing behind his back echoes of freedom, and breaking rules and snapping ties. It is the sound of resolve and of not backing down.

Walking through the corridors of the empty school is a thrill that Gokudera enjoyed, even if he wouldn’t admit that out loud. Part of it is because he shuffled past Hibari’s unwavering attention, and this is almost worth it, isn’t it?

Gokudera has to smirk at the thought, a fleeting tilt of his lips upwards. It’s a poor consolation but one that he takes with no qualms.

His footsteps are light, and he barely makes a sound –he can be quiet when he wants to be, when he doesn’t have to impress anyone. Juudaime will find out soon, when he’s forced to send Gokudera out for an espionage mission. But that is still in the future, and not _now_. The now is Gokudera slipping past Hibari in the middle of the night.

He can smile in the face of danger, and defiance is part of who he is, but even that is forgotten as he focuses on the present again, and the music room calls out to him, reminding him why he’s here. The piano.

Gokudera can’t see it, but he doesn’t need to. He has spent an entire year in this school already, and so many things have happened, and he knows every inch of the school grounds by now, needing it to better protect Juudaime.

If Tsuna could see his face now, he would not be able to recognise him, a far cry from that open, silly smile Gokudera only reserves for him.

A year. He has been in Japan for a year, following orders, trying to build himself to become Tsuna’s right hand man. To be worth of a position in the Vongola family. So many things have happened. He met Tsuna and decided to follow him forever. He met Yamamoto. He trained, he fought, he kept going. He faced a future where he failed, and tried to avoid it.

He found himself a place he can call his own, or at least, as close to it as it can be. It’s not ideal, it’s not perfect, but Gokudera _likes_ his new family. It feels more family than the one that should be his own by blood, and that’s all that matters.

And because of this –because of this longing, because of this need growing in his chest, wanting to be better, wanting to become someone Tsuna can rely on… this is why he is here, to face things he’s kept locked somewhere inside him for years.

He hopes, fleetingly as he steps forwards and enters the music room, that Hibari will not patrol the third floor. There are things he has to confront to be able to be at peace, and his presence is not required, nor wanted.

The piano does not judge him. The piano is just an instrument, an object, and it’s not even the one Gokudera is familiar with –it’s an inexpensive one in a school classroom… and yet, in his eyes the grand piano he used when he was young, back in his first house, superimposes on this one in his mind, until they are one and the same.

It feels strange when his fingers brush against the keys, not enough to make a sound, just a soft caress, almost in reverie. He has not played in forever, he’s abandoned that part of him when he left his old family to find his own path in life, but if there is one thing he regrets, that would be it.

The memories he’s kept inside for so long slowly unravel in front of him at the familiar touch. Was it really him playing at his mother’s side? Smiling happy, childish smiles, way before reality showed him what being in a Mafia was really about… was that him?

Gokudera slides down on the seat in front of the piano, and licks his dry lips.

There’s _so much_ packed in that one simple gesture, it speaks of months spent running from that room, ignoring the piano, looking away during music classes because he didn’t want to see it. He wanted to deny its presence because he felt like it was calling for him, but it never worked. It speaks of sleepless nights spent staring at the ceiling, and of dreams filled with music and _her_ face. Asking him why he gave up on something he loved.

The silence surrounding him is different now, filled with his own anticipation, it’s almost electrical, and his fingers twitch as he keeps them pressed lightly on the keys of the piano, taking a deep breath.

He refrains from playing for a moment more, lets himself be swallowed by this melancholic familiarity, his senses all focused on the piano, on his memories, on his wishes for the future.

He wants to come to terms with is past, so that his future will be brighter.

The keys feel cool under his fingers, smooth, dustless, ageless. It is not his old piano, this is less expensive and less beautiful, but it is regal all the same. The surface isn’t polished ebony with his old family’s symbol carved on the side, but dark brown. It’s not engraved by Italian manufacturers with the language of his roots, and there’s no soft, silky cushion for him to sit on, but these things don’t matter. What matters is the sound, and he looks past the instrument and sees what it means –and it’s the most stunning thing to his eyes.

He is a Mafioso. Damned to a life he chose for himself, the only life he can live, but this… the sound, the music… it is still part of him. It would be stupid to shed this part of him, forget where he comes from, because he’s belonged to this life since he was born, but he also belongs to the music. He does not own it, he is but a vessel for the sounds he makes, just as he’s a vessel for his boss to do as he pleases through him.

It’s because of this that he’s left his apartment in the middle of the night, and has managed to ignore Hibari’s presence and everything else. He has denied this call because he was childish, and lost, and angry… but no more.

Now he’s finally ready to take on his responsibilities for real.

He inhales, breathing in the air, shivering in the dark.

Then he presses his fingers down.

***

The notes uncurl around him, sinuous and soft, and they fill the classroom and steal Gokudera away.

It is easier than he remembers, and although his fingers are a bit clumsy, and he is afraid of messing up the song because it’s been so long since he’s played, it still doesn’t matter, because the familiarity and the warmth he feels envelops him like a blanket.

Nothing else matters anymore and he lets himself sink into the music.

The notes swallow him and wrap around his heart. He lets himself feel as he plays, grow familiar with the song, and he accepts this link between his past life, almost forgotten but never really, and his present one. The music flows through him and he loses himself in it, admits the faults of his own fingers in a way he never admitted his missteps while protecting Tsuna, and like this he comes to terms with his own failures, too.

He accepts it, he accepts it all, and he lets everything wash over him in a purifying wave, because music is cleansing and all he needed was a chance –a chance to drown and be reborn, strengthen himself and his convictions, and face all of himself, and he is also music.

Gokudera himself is a song, a cacophony of explosions and screaming and blood and despair and determination to live, a discordant tune that has rough edges and hurts those who get too close.

He remembers this, he remembers _her_ face, his mother’s face, in a way he hasn’t been able to ever since leaving his father’s house.

This is something he could not do with someone, not even with Juudaime, opening himself raw, bare and exposed, but it is needed because Gokudera needs to see himself, with all his mistakes and all his qualities, and accept all of it to become better.

Gokudera lets himself fall even deeper, breathes, and is one with the music.

When the last few notes echo in the air, it’s almost too hard for him to open his eyes again.

He inhales deeply, until his lungs burn, then opens his eyes and finds that while nothing has changed, at least not visibly, he feels… tired. Worn out. but also satisfied. He exhales, and his hands shake so much he has to lift them from the piano so not to make any sudden noise.

He waits.

The silence wraps around him so much that the sound of his heart beating is almost amplified, and for a long moment, Gokudera Hayato does not exist. He closes his eyes again and makes a silent vow – _that he will be better from now on, that he will grow up and shape himself to be the best tool for Tsuna, to be always there, never to falter, and…_

The door behind him clicks open, and Hibari steps in the room.

Gokudera recognises him instantly, and gives up right then –he’s not in the mood to fight, he’s tired and really, he just wants to _sleep_ – and prepares himself to be ‘bitten to death’.

He waits, and waits some more, but the expected attack does not come.

The silence is filled with something –tension, perhaps; he’s waiting for some sort of reaction that is not coming, but somehow he’s not afraid.

He wants to ask why isn’t Hibari attacking him, since he’s pretty sure he’s breaking a lot of rules, unspoken or not, but he doesn’t, because he doesn’t want to break this weird silence.

There is a shuffling noise from behind him, the sound of something sliding down, and Gokudera has the distinct impression that Hibari has just made himself comfortable on the floor, but the feeling of eyes staring at him does not lessen.

What is he doing?

Again, Gokudera doesn’t ask.

Hibari doesn’t speak, either.

The silence stretches on longer than Gokudera can count, the tension slowly draining from his body, and when he looks down at his hands again, Gokudera sees they are not trembling anymore.

He doesn’t even think about it before he starts playing again.

***

When he returns to the music room the following night, Hibari is already there.

It is not like Gokudera planned to come back –but he’s still restless, and the idea of playing more appealed to him, and now it has more to do with indulging himself now that he can rather than confront his past. So, for the second time he braves the streets at night and reaches the school.

Hibari’s face is unreadable, and he’s barely visible in the darkness of the room, but Gokudera can feel his eyes on him the moment he steps into the room; he has lit a cigarette on the way there, another infraction that is sure to get Hibari angry, but the other Guardian does not move from his position against the wall, does not even twitch, and Gokudera passes by him without turning his head to look.

He flops in front of the piano with unmatched lack of grace, and cracks his knuckles.

There is a bubbling excitement inside him that has everything to do with the situation as a whole –wanting to play the piano again, wanting to test what limits Hibari imposes him before he actually does something– and he feels… alive.

It feels good.

Hibari makes a sound behind him –a hiss or a snort, he’s not sure– but Gokudera is fully focused on the piano now, fingers already reaching out for the keys, and his thoughts are washed away quickly the moment he starts to play.

It is a different song this time, one of the sonata he has learned when he was still studying, and he thinks it’d fit the atmosphere well.

Pouring himself into the song, Gokudera plays. He forgets Hibari behind him, he forgets about the mafia. He reconciles and forgets and learns to forgive with every note that vibrates in the air.

Mostly himself.

When he’s finished, he leaves, and Hibari does not confront him again. Gokudera isn’t sure how to feel, but privileged shouldn’t be it, not really, and yet… he’s been _tolerated_. He breeched into Hibari’s territory knowing full well what might happen, and he was left unscathed.

It shouldn’t feel like it is a good thing.

At least he’s not being pummelled into the ground.

Because of this –because of this quiet acceptance, Gokudera finds himself coming back.

Not every night, but on those nights when he’d unable to sleep, staring listlessly at the ceiling, Gokudera comes back to the school, and plays the piano. It becomes an addiction, an outlet, and it works.

Whenever he doesn’t pass out due to his severe training, whenever he’s not patrolling around Tsuna’s house ( _he’s his boss, but he’s so clueless, so open and trusting… it’s almost too much_ ), whenever Yamamoto finally leaves him alone… Gokudera returns to the music room.

And plays.

Nothing else seems to matter much at those times.

And every single time, without fail, Hibari is there.

Sometimes Gokudera wonders whether Hibari goes to that room even when Gokudera doesn’t –if he waits for him even when there is no way he’ll go… but he stops that thought before it gets to be too much.

It’s not about Hibari. Gokudera shouldn’t care about that, either.

As the weeks go by, the Storm Guardian realises that it’s not just the music he’s growing addicted to, but the feeling of being free, of being allowed to have this one thing, and… and the eyes that never look away while he plays. A stare that only makes his lung burn with a strong, unyielding need to do his best.

If before he’d felt dislike between them, distrust and mutual displeasure, now Gokudera isn’t sure what to call it. On his side, he’s pretty sure things have changed, even if they never speak, and even if when meeting elsewhere, things do not seem changed at all between them.

What’s worse… he can’t seem to bring himself to care.

As long as he can play, and Hibari comes to listen, that acceptance is enough.

***

Hibari remains there, motionless, and looks on.

The music wraps around him, and in a hidden, almost forgotten part of his soul –since obviously he _has_ one– he can even admit he likes it.

It’s not like he’s a connoisseur of music or anything like that. The most he can say he’s liked before is his school’s hymn, and whatever song passes by on the radio while he’s scouting the grounds.

And yet, this kind of music is hard to ignore. It penetrated in his mind, it makes itself be liked. It is a revealing sort of music, the kind that bares the soul of the player to an expert’s eye, and Hibari has always been a good observer, even when he didn’t care for what he noticed.

He has the power to make it stop, to _control_ it and punish the impudent herbivore for having thought he was allowed to continue past the first night. He has power over the other teen’s life, and that is a feeling he does not ignore.

This is something he enjoys, actually.

Because the piano is in _his_ school, because the Storm Guardian, who had been previously considered somewhat worthless, is also in _his_ school.

He plays songs that curl around him like a blanket. Raw and bleeding, he plays that music with an edge that Hibari, who can’t play any sort of instrument, not even the flute, can only feel shallowly, and even then, that is more than enough.

He hasn’t chased Gokudera Hayato out of his property because his music is compelling. It is weird, but it is pleasing, even though sometimes what it evokes inside him is more painful than Hibari would like to acknowledge.

Because of this, as long as the music continues being pleasing and there is no attempt at talking, Hibari will allow this infraction to continue. Under supervision.

It is not that Hibari hasn’t thought about interrupting it. During the day, when he grips his tonfa in his hands and stares at the idiot bomber from afar, he has entertained more than one bloody conclusion to those nightly invasions, and yet… when he’s in that room, with that herbivore playing his captivating music, Hibari allows him to continue undisturbed.

It is interesting.

It is perturbing, with how easily he lets himself be soothed by such a simple yet complex thing.

It makes Hibari seethe, and he takes it out on more people and yet he continues to wait, making sure to monitor whenever the other guardian leaves his apartment to get to the school in the middle of the night.

It is a ritual that he finds himself awaiting, with all the confusion it brings.

After all, it is too late to protest, and it would bring him no solace, no matter how satisfying it would be to break that insolent player.

Time after time, he comes back, and listens.

Ever since that first time when he had entered the room, ready to bite that person’s ass and instead finding himself sitting down, silently demanding Gokudera to continue playing until he agreed, playing more songs, Hibari has been captivated.

The following night Hibari finds himself standing against the wall, waiting for Gokudera to arrive and perform his magic. Gokudera does come, and Hibari knows right in that moment that it’s all over.

He has been somewhat ensnared by a weaker animal, and the thought is appalling, and he refuses to contemplate it.

There are nights when Gokudera does not come, and yet Hibari lingers in front of the room, and is chased away by the silence inside, too deep for him to be comfortable there.

There are other nights –after their ritual has become a weekly thing, after school resumes, when Hibari should have punished him for the infraction ten times harder but _doesn’t_ – where he forces himself to go inside the empty room, and the echo of the notes still resounds in the depths of his mind.

It is only after the thirtieth night, when he finds himself standing up in the middle of the last song, that he realises something disquieting.

Somehow, it is not just the song. Gokudera himself became part of his school. He is expected. He is almost welcomed.

He is part of what is _his_.

Music and silence erased the distance between them without any need for words or intimacy. There has never been _hatred_ –Hibari has never cared enough for that, not really– but now there is something there whereas before there was nothing. He does not linger on that, because he doesn’t like to feel like he’s lost.

All of sudden, the weaker, low-rank teen suddenly does not seem all that worthless.

One night, Hibari knows, he will stand up while the other Guardian plays, and erase the distance that separates them once for all.

Hibari does not know what he will do then. What Gokudera will do.

But for now, as far as Gokudera knows, he won’t move. Won’t speak. Won’t _be there_ at all.

As long as the music keeps playing, though, the vibrating notes still tie them together.


End file.
